Chases Usually Do Not End Well
by IsisAthena
Summary: This is a extended version of my drabble series with an added ending. Note: The first chapter is only the edited drabbles- nothing really new.
1. Chases usually do not end well-

**This is a two-shot set generally in series 4, after 4x03, but not really during a specific time. This is an expanded version of my first 6 drabbles and a continuation. Not beta-read. Note: this first chapter is just the edited drabbles- nothing majorly new.**

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><p>They ran; flashes of colors that were pursuers darting between the thick trees. Bare, bloody, scratched feet pounded over the damp earth, dodging trees and bracken alike. The bandits had taken their shoes as incentive not to escape; not that it had stopped them for long. Both knew that they would've given up and died but for the simplicity of their motion. Footfall, after footfall, after footfall. Repeat and survive, or falter and fall. They broke through the tree line, only to find themselves on the edge of a raging river, swollen with snow melt. The more capable of the two cursed breathlessly. The focus needed for running must have prevented either from hearing the tell-tale rushing sound. As one collapsed to the ground, the bandits caught up and cornered the men.<p>

The injured man smiled sadly up at the other from his position on the ground. The man that had remained standing crouched by the other's side, who watched the encroaching threats with caution. A muttered conversation passed between the two trapped men, complete with eye rolls, minuscule hand gestures and mouthed insults. The lesser-wounded man rose into a defensive position even as the invalid man shook his dark head vigorously. He lifted up his "borrowed" sword, golden hair glinting in the sun, and prepared to die for his friend's; …no, his brother's safety.

Even as the bandits screamed out war cries, the blonde stood his ground over his friend. He slashed viciously and parried in a frenzied manner, his only thought being the defense of the injured man behind him. The black-haired man sighed quietly, as if coming to a great decision and held out his hand, as if it were as dangerous a weapon as the blade that was used to defend him. He whispered a few words in an arcane language, and a large wave of river water crashed onto the shore, sweeping away all but the two exhausted men. The blonde turned to see the faintest flash of gold in his brother's eyes.

"Merlin?" The man whispered with pure shock in his eyes and the faintest hint of disbelief in his voice. The injured man gave the king a weak smile, one that was only but a hint of his usual grin. The chainmail clad knight paused for the briefest of moments, tension hanging in the air like a thick miasma over the clearing. The dark-haired man attempted to move from his prone position, perhaps trying to gain a reaction from his frozen friend, but only managed to groan quietly. The tiny sound of pain shook the king out of his trance, and he drew his sword, rushing at the dark-haired man.

Arthur stood over the man that was lying on his back, sword pointed at his throat and a dangerous gleam in his eye. "What was that?" The manservant remained silent. "What. Was. That? Answer me honestly." The servant sighed, a sound of resignation, and spoke. "You know what it was, sire. I have magic." The king ran his free hand through his hair, sighing, but pulled the sword away. Arthur looked at the hidden sorcerer and sighed. He could see the poorly hidden hope flickering in the boy's eyes. "Treat your wounds. We're going back to Camelot." Merlin gazed past Arthur, to the slightly rustling bracken at the edge of the clearing…

"Arthur!" The shout came too late, the knife of the cowardly bandit that hid when his fellows attacked sailing towards the king's back. The dark-headed man leaped at and knocked his former friend down to the ground with a burst of strength. The king jumped to his feet, a harsh gaze aimed at the sorcerer that had the audacity to… Then he saw the knife buried in the servant's chest, and the blue shirt growing red around it. He fell to his knees by his friend's side and placed a hand on his wound, drawing out the dagger. The king glanced at his friend's rapidly paling face with its fluttering eyelids. He shook his friend with increasing strength as he failed to get a reaction. Arthur started to mumble subconsciously. "Come on, idiot. Don't fall asleep on me now. I'm still mad at you. " But no matter what the king did, Merlin's eyelids slipped shut and he fell into the quiet black void…

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><p><strong>Next chapter will be up soon.<strong>


	2. But sometimes they do

**Part 2 of 2.**

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><p>The dark was nice. There was no pain or anything really. He could just stay in it forever. But there was something he had to do. A name floated through his mind. <em>Arthur. <em>Awareness hit him like a lightning strike. _He knows!_ A sense of panic forced Merlin to attempt to sit up. He only managed to open his eyes, a task that was much harder than it should have been. He could only manage to prop himself up slightly. The warlock frowned at the ceiling- it was lit more than any cell he'd ever been in, and the room smelled of herbs. And the bed he was laying on was one of the most comfortable he'd ever felt.

Merlin gazed around the room, wondering why he was in Gaius's chambers. Arthur had made it clear that he was a hated criminal; and enemy of Camelot. He glanced downwards to see what the heavy weight on his legs was. A slumped figure gave a snore- Gaius. Then shuffling to his right caught his attention.

Arthur was watching him from a chair, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Merlin opened his mouth to speak, but his dry throat refused to rasp out words. The king seemed to get the message, however, and he leaned forward and held a cup with water to his lips.

"What happened?"

Arthur seemed to ignore the obvious issue. "After you passed out like the girl you are, I found a group of druids. They tended to your wound and gave me a horse. We've been back at Camelot for a few days now." He hesitated for a moment, reading the unspoken question in the warlock's eyes. "And Gaius told me a bit about… the magic, and what you've done over the years. I'll listen to the full story before I make a decision."

Merlin sighed in relief, and sank back into the pillows. The small one-sided conversation had exhausted him. Arthur stood up. "Sleep now, you idiot. But you're telling me everything else later, and mucking out the stables for keeping this from me."

A little less than two weeks later, Merlin, Gwen, Arthur, the knights, and Gaius all sat in Arthur's chambers and listened to Merlin tell his story. As promised, the warlock started at the beginning, and spoke of everything he had done since the day he had walked through the gates of Camelot, and left nothing out but a small detail that was forgotten, often supplied by Gaius. When he told of the dragon, who Dragoon really was, and Morgana, Arthur almost shattered the barely mended friendship with shouting and threats. However, everyone laughed at the goblin and enchanted Arthur's antics, and shed a tear or two over Lancelot, Balinor, Will, and Freya. It took a week for Merlin to finish the tale.

It took Arthur two days after that to begin removing the ban on magic.

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><p><strong>Yes, I know, corny ending. It's probably crap, but practice makes perfect, and this is my first non- drabble story. Thoughts? I might add a chapter from Arthur's point of view later, but no guarantees.<strong>


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